Not So Perfect
by DaisyKash
Summary: He wanted the world for her. She just wanted a fraction of that world. Leo/April. Set during/after 1x10.


Sometimes she thinks back to those moments she had with Dominic. The way he used to stroke her hair as she fell asleep in his bed, the way he used to bring her coffee just the way she liked it: mostly hot milk and just a hint of coffee, the way he'd listen to her as she cried in his arms, even if he didn't know what she was _really _crying about. Especially: the way he could have any girl he wanted, easily, but as soon as she stepped into a room he only had his eyes on her.

He was perfect. And she was an idiot.

She was sitting in a hospital bed, in her thermal t-shirt and striped pajama pants, in the middle of the day when everyone was going about their lives: going to work, or school, or just taking a stroll outside. What she would give to just _breathe _the air outside of this hospital. To walk without feeling faint after a few minutes. To sit at her cubicle and take on the world one article at a time.

She called Leo. She _chose_ him. Despite the fact that she knew he wouldn't be alive for much longer, she couldn't help but fall for the fact that the only thing he prided himself in was his ability to make others happy before their time ran out. Before _his _time ran out. He seemed to be the only one who could really empathize with even a shred of what she was feeling in that moment: that need to escape her reality, that need to _live _in the moment, because that opportunity could be taken from her before she has a chance to fulfill her goals, to do something worthwhile with this life she was given.

He wanted the world for her. She just wanted a _fraction _of that world.

Lately, she'd been giving some thought to the concepts of life and death, and what they really mean. Whether life is really life if you don't savor, use every moment; whether death is really the end to life, or just the beginning to another one. How could she know, anyway? How could anybody? She thought of Jackson, especially at his pre-funeral, and how he seemed so confident that they'd all meet in some other life, in another time, that goodbyes could never really be permanent. She'd still see him in her dreams—and yes, those that she sees him nowadays are dreams, as opposed to the seemingly endless nightmares she'd been having lately. His positivity made her fear of death, well, a little more bearable. Because death—well, death isn't really ever a good thing, is it?

The only consolation, really, when someone passes away, is that they'd contributed something to this world. That they'd made an impact, even just on one person.

She'd messed things up. She was never one to act impulsively—but then she'd freaked out in the hospital, felt like the walls were closing in on her, and she called Leo. Even though she knew that Dominic would have been by her side to console her in a heartbeat, something was pulling her to Leo. All signs were pointed to Dominic, but Leo made her _feel _something that she couldn't quite pinpoint. Dominic was comfortable, reliable, but the fact that Leo made her step out of her comfort zone was the reason she was so drawn to him.

And though sleeping with him that night was certainly impulsive, it felt like the best decision she'd made in a while. She'd always had her life mapped out: ace high school, go to an ivy league college, and then become a high-end reporter. Her leukemia had veered her off track, and then Leo had landed her on another continent altogether.

What do you do, when everything you thought you knew is suddenly blurred before your eyes? When your sanity is on the line, when your heart suddenly takes a leap of faith?

When there wasn't such a clear line between right and wrong anymore? She had to figure what was right for her, if she was going to make it through this.

She couldn't help it if Leo just felt so damn right.

...

"I have something very important to tell you."

She held her breath. She pulled the telephone from her ear, paused the message. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear what he had to say. Because right in this moment, she realized, he was making a choice: whether to fight for his life or let himself fall away. She replayed his voice over and over in her mind, and she couldn't find a trace of uncertainty, of instability.

Leo Hendrie was the most stable-minded person she'd met in a while. He walked around in his armor, protecting him from letting his impending death ruin whatever time he had left. She couldn't imagine knowing that she could go to sleep one night and not wake up in the morning. That it could happen at any moment, and that any day could be her last.

G-d, and he talked about not going to that place. And now she understood why.

"April?" Beth said, concern etched into her expression.

"Huh?" She looked up at her friend, dazed.

"What did Leo say?"

"I couldn't listen to it."

She wasn't sure if she should be embarrassed. Because she was a coward, she knew, but she thought she had a right to be afraid. It must be something serious, that he couldn't tell her in person, that his parents were in the hospital.

Dominic may have been perfect, but Leo revealed to her that there's really no such thing as perfect: that the only important thing is making sure that you've done all you can. That you've let your uncle back in your life despite the fact that you still sort-of blame him for your father's death, that you've accepted your sister's relationship despite it being slightly—_different _from what you'd usually expect from her, that you've kept your mother and your best friend in the loop about your condition despite the fact that they're trying to micromanage every area of your life. Leo, through the flashing cameras and the publicity, could have anything he wanted, could have left any legacy he could have ever dreamed of.

But he chose to use all that money and publicity for an infinitely better cause: to helping those who believed they had yet to fulfill their purpose. To those that felt that they'd missed something along the way, and he was there to fill the gap.

Because what could really be more fulfilling than that?

Her best friend looked at her quizzically, a stunned expression upon her dark features.

"You're honestly telling me you don't want to know what he has to say?"

To be honest, she wasn't sure she was ready to hear it. What if he was in critical condition, and those would be his last words to her? What if she'd never feel the touch of his fingertips across her cool skin, hear his harsh but real reassurances that her life was more valuable than she believed it to be? What if—G-d, what if he chose to go through with the surgery?

What if he didn't make it?

He was the strongest person she'd met in a while, and just the notion of him dying under the knife because of her made her stomach churn. Not that she was really _that _self-centered to think he would make such a choice because of _her_.

Screw it, she had to know. Her always-needs-to-have-the-latest-scoop mentality didn't allow for her to leave this message on pause, because life simply didn't work that way. Pressing that play button was definitely, she decided, not a choice she was going to regret.

"Okay," she breathed, pressed play, and held the phone to her ear.

This was it. In this moment, she knew that her life would change, in some way. There she was, just like at that party, thinking of herself when this was a pivotal moment in _his _life. But she had to face it: his life was kind-of intertwined with his. She never thought she would ever be so dependent on another's existence.

"I don't know what you do to me, Carver, but I've decided to go through with the surgery."


End file.
